Free Thirsty 2 by Mike Sanders, Nuance Art

slurp on and the excitement was too much for Red to handle as he nutted in Tastee’s mouth. She swallowed his and Chris’ juices like a champ and at that moment Red figured out the real reason she’d gotten the nickname, “Tastee”.
    Being spent from his third nut for the night, Red finally clicked off the camera, flopped his limp frame back onto the bed and drifted off slowly into a slumber.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Who was it you sent to Bojangles?” Carlos asked as he looked into the mirror his nephew and personal barber, War, was holding up. His mother had named him Warren, yet Carlos had shortened it to War once he proved that he could not only run Carlos’ barbershop/beauty salon BobCutz with the efficiency of a master chess player, but he wouldn’t hesitate to lay his murder game down as well. War was often mistaken for Carlos as they were damn near identical at six feet and weighed 190 pounds. Both had the deep brown skin that ran in the family and both had sea-sickening waves that had the bitches spellbound and the niggas envious. They even sounded alike in person and on the phone, but they never said the same things due to the age difference and wisdom. Unlike Carlos, War kept two stripes in each of his eyebrows and his eyelashes were long and curly. In addition, War’s lips were fuller.
    “I sent Tia,” War said as he took the mirror from his uncle’s hand after Carlos gave the nod of approval.
    “Tia wit the fat ass and small waist, from Detroit?” Preme was holding his crotch. “That bitch need’ta quit playin’ wit’ all dat ass and let a nigga beat that.”  He was resting his frame in one of the empty barber chairs even though he had no intentions of cutting his ridiculously long locs that were tied back into a big ponytail.
    “I second dat,” War laughed as he sprayed grape seed oil sheen on Carlos head, “She said she stoppin’ to pick up her cousin, Rena too. They say that bitch can suck a bowlin’ ball thru a straw.”
    “Yeah, but that bitch’s legs stay spreadin’ like cancer. You better strap up if you fuck dat bitch. I know for a fact she used to be on dat freak site Back Passes or some shit like dat,”  retorted one of the regulars who was getting his hair cut in the chair next to War’s.
    “ Back Pages , muthafucka. Don’t act like you’on know what dat shit is,” another patron corrected as they all laughed.
    “ Back Pages ? Hell, she already know what it is then. Now that’s the bitch I wanna fuck. Ain’t no datin’ and all that ole shit, just straight to point fuckin’. I’mma text her real quick and make sure she still pickin’ her up.” War pulled out his phone and texted the message. Moments later, his phone vibrated and he flipped it to the side and read the response from Tia. “She said she just picked her up. They on they way back already.”
     “Aiight fellas, enough with the pussy talk, we need to get to some business in the back,” Carlos insisted as he stood up and looked around his establishment. He inhaled the sweet fragrance from the sheen as he took in the orange walls decorated with blue, silver, and white pinstripes in honor of the city’s NBA team. Toward the front of the shop where the salon area was located, some of the women were reading copies of Ebony magazine or some of the latest urban fiction or romance novels as they waited to get their hair dried under silver or white hair dryers. A few of the ladies had their heads in the blue basins as the stylists were getting ready to wash and rinse them. In the back where Carlos and his fam’ were, men sat in comfortable white and blue faux leather barber chairs getting their hair cut and talking shit.
    A few weeks after Carlos stepped out of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg County Jail on the bogus charges with the female federal agent two years earlier, War had called to tell him that he had finished barber school and got his license. Carlos had paid for his only nephew’s school as a promise to his